Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino
by reverse-swing
Summary: "Red or black?" She asks the blonde. "I'm not sure," comes the reply, "is there even much point in me picking? I've heard The House always wins." "Depends on what you consider winning," the brunette says. Her grin is wicked. It's 1987, trouble is chasing Alex Vause and only some of it is her own doing. Vauseman aplenty, with lots of capers to boot.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**

 **Hullo, I'm back with something new.**

 **Thank you to all of those that PM'd me suggestions or who left them in a review. A few people asked for post season 6 stuff and whilst I'm not averse to it, and may likely do it in the future, I think it would be more one shot territory for me, rather than a multi.**

 **Anyhow, here's the first chapter of this new fic. Title and opening line of the last paragraph taken from the Arctic Monkeys. Reviews welcomed with a tip of the hat.**

 **Enjoy.**

It looks worse than she had hoped, a laceration of around two inches just above her left cheekbone, raw and oddly sordid in the unforgiving strip lighting of the gas station rest room.

 _Fuck._

She buys Advil, pops three (an extra one for good luck) and washes it down with swigs of flat, slightly warm Pepsi she'd bought yesterday and throws the empty bottle back into the passenger side foot-well.

It's the first Monday of the month and Alex is pretty sure she's already screwed. So she does the only thing she can think of right now. She calls Fahri from a payphone.

He doesn't answer straight away and she's on the verge of hanging up, jangling the remainder of the loose change in her right hand, watching the curve of the road in the distance, get swallowed into the purplish black of the night, until he finally picks up.

'Yeah?'

He sounds distracted, music bleeding into the foreground, some club track she vaguely recognises.

'It's me,' she says, her voice sounding much less solid than it did in her head.

'Vause?'

'No, Cindy Crawford,' she says, hoping a joke will pull on the thread of familiarity between them.

'My luck isn't that good,' he laughs. 'Shoot.'

She starts at the only place she can remember vividly. The _bad_ part.

She'd delivered the kilo of uncut blow to the agreed spot, near an abandoned mill around 20 miles from the hotel. Alex had driven past it a few times before, even stopping there with Nichols one Labor Day weekend. They'd gotten a little high, counting stars pock marking the night sky, watching smoke drift away on a languid curl.

The guts of the building had been scooped out long ago and all that remained was a graffiti riddled skeleton. But Alex never had the inclination to examine it in any more detail than that, the air around it always seemed stagnant, even for the Nevada desert.

But the familiar SUV had pulled up on time, all metallic black and tinted windows and she remembers chuckling to herself about just how cliché ridden it had seemed- the car and the goon sliding out of the vehicle, beckoning her over.

He's about 200 pounds of solid muscle, buzz cut, clean shirt, face set into a permanent scowl and she approaches him with the indolent ease of someone that's done this more than they should have-e _specially_ for a twenty two-year old.

She hands him the messenger bag with the package and he takes it in a meaty hand and tosses it into the half open window of the passenger door.

'Do I at least get my bag back? It was a gift from my valet.'

Obviously it's a joke, as if a low level runner like her could afford a fucking decent ride, let alone one that requires the expense of a valet. But the muscle doesn't even grace her with a response, just turns and walks back around to the driver's side.

'Hey,' Alex says, all traces of humour and pleasantries dissipating. 'Aren't you forgetting something?'

The muscle looks up, momentarily perplexed and Alex feels herself relax a little. Clearly he's just forgotten; maybe he's having a rough night? She figures his job isn't exactly a bed of roses.

'Oh yeah,' he says, in an over exaggerated 'I'm Having a Light Bulb Moment' kinda way. 'Mr. Ribero says this covers last time.'

'Last time?' she replies, her brain desperately trying to slot to together the pieces of the last drop that she had made and fashion them into some semblance of sense.

But last time had gone smoothly, the package neatly exchanged for the plump envelope of cash. All over in less than two minutes. And then she'd driven back to the Hotel, completed her evening shift and she and Nichols had gone out for the night, getting shit faced in a sports bar run by her buddy Owen.

Alex had fucked the barmaid in the back room (it was becoming a regular Friday night thing, whether she cared to admit it or not) and she'd handed the cash to Fahri early next morning- still hungover and barely conscious.

But the muscle just grins and says, 'you'd better speak to your boss,' and makes to get into the car.

And now Alex is all impulse and fear. She rushes towards him, grabbing the handle of the SUV as he slides inside the car and she yanks the door back, so it bounces on its hinges slightly.

'What the fuck man, you owe me $70,000, this isn't some fucking joke!'

Her heart feels as though it's jammed some place in her throat and she's pretty sure the pounding in her head is going to rip through her brain if she's not careful.

But the goon just laughs, unperturbed, repeats that she needs to speak to her boss and when she tries to grab his arm (another impulse, even more stupid than the first, especially since she's now pulled the flick knife from her back pocket) he stands up, grabs her by the throat and tosses her into a ditch. She catches her face on something and inhales a lungful of dust. But by the time she's back on her feet, with something like her regular bearings, the SUV is long gone, leaving nothing but tyre tracks, disrupting the desert sand.

…

Fahri is silent for longer than Alex has ever known and for a second she's waiting for the wail of the dead line to kick in. But then she can hear the distorted sounds of movement and the music eventually fades. She guesses he's taken the cordless somewhere quieter, not that it matters, she figures what's coming next isn't going to be pleasant.

'Fuck,' he finally says, in a pained sort of exhale. 'Fuck Vause. This is not good. This is _so_ not good.'

She could make a joke about stating the obvious, as ill advised as that may be, but her brain can barely fashion basic sentences right now, let alone fully-fledged wise cracks. So she remains silent, clinging on to each second of the empty crackle of the line.

'You better get over here,' he finally says, the words lacking their usual lustre.

'Okay,' she replies, feeding the coin slot with more change, almost as if she cannot bear to leave the conversation there, on something so final. 'But you get that this wasn't my fault right? There wasn't anything I could have done.'

But this time there's no mistake.

The line is dead.

…

Graduating Smith hasn't given Piper the sense of achievement that she was hoping for. And _that_ simple truth is completely unpalatable to her parents.

They argue endlessly about her future, her father even offers to get her an internship at a local newspaper. 'A guy owes me a favour,' he says one night, over slightly tough steak, eaten off Carol's favourite china. 'It'd be low level stuff to begin with, some admin duties no doubt, but if you show willing and some initiative, I'm sure you could work your way up in no time.' He doesn't look up from his plate the whole time, as if Piper's agreement is a given.

But the summer has been and gone and the earth smells damp and fresh, as if it's been reborn. Green has given way to rust, light to dark and everything seems a little more complicated than it should, her mind a tangle of things she cannot fully comprehend.

So she asks for time. Suggests a couple of months away, volunteering Polly as her companion (she can smooth over the details with her later if needs be). And to her surprise, the agreement comes remarkably quickly, as if the last month or so of arguing has finally broken the backbone of their resistance (temporarily at least).

They agree to transfer some money to cover a road trip and as Carol scoops ice cream into pale blue bowls, Piper is already thinking of Santa Fe and Jazz bars in Chicago, the Nevada planes and the debauchery of Vegas; the cargo of her mind threatening to come careering off track with the rapidity of her thoughts.

But it feels glorious nonetheless.

…

They're sipping cheap wine in Polly's apartment, taking advantage of the fact her house mate has finally left the place for the first time since her boyfriend broke up with her.

'I mean if I have to listen to 'With or Without you,' _one_ more fucking time, I'm gonna choke her with my bare hands,' Polly says. And Piper isn't entirely certain she's joking.

'And you know the worst part?' She says, refilling both their glasses, 'she doesn't even know the fucking words.'

'Why don't you tape the song lyrics to her door?' Piper says grinning.

'Asshole,' Polly says, but it lacks bite and she's kind of smirking. 'Do you actually have any useful suggestions?'

And so Piper seizes the opportunity.

She skims over the practicalities of the road trip, such as an actual route, or even a definitive purpose- instead choosing to focus on a whole, Bright Lights, Big City kind of theme. And maybe it's the wine, or the mentally unstable housemate, but within twenty minutes she has Polly Harper's word (confirmed with a business like handshake) and a head full of a whole lot more.

And that's all that she needs for now.

…

Fahri meets her outside his house. He's standing on the gravel driveway leaning against the silver Mercedes, his casually unbuttoned shirt at odds with the furrowed brow. He's smoking and judging by the number of cigarette butts scattered around his feet, he's a good way through a whole packet.

He only looks up when they're almost face-to-face and then he stares at her with a vehement despair.

'This is a fucking shit storm,' he says, flicking the cigarette butt into the shadows beyond. He regards Alex a little longer and points at the wound.

'Did the pick up guy do that?'

'Kinda,' she says, not wanting to clarify the embarrassing details- that she'd cut her own face with the flick knife as she'd been flung to the ground.

But Fahri doesn't ask anything else, he just shifts his position so he's standing more upright and says, 'you're lucky you still _have_ a face if you tried to do something that made him hurt you.'

And this pisses Alex off so much that she can feel the immediate flush of heat rising to her cheeks, despite the relative cool of the late evening breeze.

'Are you fucking kidding me? What else was I supposed to do? The guy was trying to drive off with the blow and leave me empty handed.' She's so angry, that the statement leaves her a little breathless, as if she's been winded. And really Fahri has some fucking nerve. Spending an evening with booze and women and lines of his own product, leaving Alex to do the donkey-work.

He'd told her at the beginning she had potential, she just needed to do as she was told, keep her head down and the money would follow. And her record for the last six months has been impeccable.

Until today- until _this._

'What did you want me to do?'

'Nothing Vause. Jesus…' He says, placing another cigarette between his lips, the flame from the match offering a soft, forgiving light. He inhales deeply, as if it's replenishing him and then offers her a drag. She declines, deciding it could exacerbate the feeling of nausea that's presently settled in her gut.

'It turns out Ribero thinks the last package wasn't kosher,' he says wearily.

'Kosher?'

'He thinks it wasn't pure, some other shit was mixed in it, plaster, brick dust, I don't know, whatever the fuck. But either way we're not getting the money.'

'And what? He's banking on Kubra's goodwill to let this go?'

'Kubra doesn't know anything yet,' Fahri says, taking another drag on the cigarette and blowing out a strong plume of smoke. 'I only spoke to Ribero around fifteen minutes ago. We need to be careful how we play this, otherwise…..'

'Otherwise?'

'It's probably best we don't dwell on that for now Vause. I've got Raoul on the case, he's going to get me some more information…details.'

Alex doesn't ask what these details entail, she figures they may involve more than a basic flesh wound. She instinctively touches her fingertips to the cut on her face.

'Just get back to the hotel for now okay, get some rest and we'll speak tomorrow.'

Alex nods and turns back to her cherry red Plymouth Barracuda, noting a new patch of rust bubbling under the paintwork near one of the headlamps.

She slides in and watches Fahri make his way back into the house. The sound of light chatter escapes as he opens the door and for a moment, she wonders what it would be like be lost in a throng of relative strangers, the gentle buzz of easy come, easy go conversation.

But instead, she has beer, a night off and Nichols.

She figures it will have to do for now.

…

"Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino, Mark speaking, please tell me how I may direct your call?'

'Reservations please,' Piper says.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi guys, I apologise for the exceptionally long delay between chapters, but life is a bit crazy right now with various things. I will try and update more frequently going forward but I hope this chapter goes some way to appeasing you all.**

 **Also thank you so much for your lovely reviews and PM's, you're a fabulous lot!**

 **So on to the chapter- I hope you enjoy it and thoughts are very much appreciated. Enjoy.**

She heads straight down to the basement. As per usual, Nichols is in the laundry room _not_ doing laundry. She's rolling a joint, leaning against one of the washing machines. It's making an unhealthy squeaking sound every time the drum spins, but Nicky has earphones on, head bobbing to whatever's on her Walkman, oblivious to her surroundings, until she spots Alex.

'The fuck!' She says, when she looks up, 'why you creeping around here like that Vause, are you trying to off me?'

'Maybe spend less time listening to Madonna and more time doing your actual job and I don't know….paying attention?'

'Work is for people with no imagination. And I'm gonna let that Madonna thing slide for now.' And then she pauses, tucks the joint behind her left ear and says 'wait a second, what the fuck happened to your face?' She reaches up to touch Alex's cheek, but the brunette jerks her head away.

'Fuck off Nicky.'

'Did you piss off that barmaid one too many times?'

'I'm not the one fucking around behind my girlfriend's back.'

'Lorna and I _are not_ official….we're just having fun.'

'Well _you_ are…'

'Stop deflecting and tell me who went all Freddy Kruger on your ass.'

'Just a customer who got the wrong end of the stick,' Alex replies, deciding this wasn't one of her best ideas after all. She should have just headed straight to the bar, eaten a couple of chilli dogs, ordered a pitcher of beer and waited until April was done with her shift. But her face still stings and she guesses she should really go up to her room and clean it out at the very least.

'Want me to be your nurse maid?' Nicky says, grin wolfish.

'I honestly couldn't think of anything fucking worse,' Alex says, but she smiles anyway.

'Listen Vause, you can level with me, if you're in some sort of shit, I can help.'

'Thanks, but I'm fine and don't you have some sheets to fold or something?'

Nicky looks down at her Casio. 'My shift ends in exactly a minute, you wanna head to the bar?'

'Let me get cleaned up first.'

'You never know,' Nicky says, headphones dangling around her neck, 'April might like the whole wounded soldier shtick.'

Alex flips her the bird.

…

April spends most of the night giving them free drinks, languid limbs leaning so close to Alex it's almost obscene.

'I think I speak on behalf of all of the patrons,' Nicky says, clearing her throat, 'when I say, can you two _please_ cut it the fuck out?!'

'Green isn't your colour, Nick,' April says, running a hand through her mane of wavy red hair and refilling their glasses with another shot of tequila.

Come closing time, Alex is so fucked she can barely feel the wound anymore. In fact she can barely feel anything, which is kind of how she likes it most of the time. Fahri seems a mere smudge on her subconscious, an insignificant puncture wound. So when she's sitting in April's Chevy Camaro and the red head is slipping her fingers inside Alex's shirt, she can almost enjoy the sensation of flesh grazing flesh. When she tells the brunette how much she wants her, Alex could almost be someplace else and when she invites her to stay the night, Alex knows there is only one answer.

…

She dreams vividly about a riptide, being washed up in a sea so grey it almost looks like slate. Of crashing against rocks with a ferocity that actually wakes her.

She slides out of the bed and stands in the cool shadows of the kitchenette, staring out of the window, eyes tracking the blood moon. Her wound is angry, she touches her fingertips to her cheek, surprised at the heat emanating from it. Nichols had joked about it scarring. 'Don't worry Vause, chicks dig that shit, didn't do any harm to Tony Montana.'

'I think I'd prefer a slightly more fairytale ending than that,' Alex had replied.

'That's your problem.'

But April is so far from a happy ending it's almost funny. She's sweet and cute and keeps inviting Alex to house parties out of town or offering to cook dinner for them. But the fucking is the best part about of all this, swiftly followed by Alex being able to leave whenever she pleases. She's made no promises to either April or herself, because she's learnt over time, promises are hard to keep.

…

She leaves April's apartment early, when the sky is still curdled with the pink of dawn and the dust is barely settled in the Nevada air. She makes the short walk to the bar, where she'd left the Plymouth Barracuda and chuckles to herself when she realises she'd left it unlocked and even then, nobody was desperate enough to steal it. Probably too afraid it wouldn't even make it as far as the end of the parking lot.

It was her mother's car, the only thing of any worth passed to Alex as part of her mothers estate. She'd laughed when the attorney had told her that. _Estate._ It conjured up images of mansions and sprawling acres of land. Of trust funds and holidays in Europe. Not trailer parks and sloppy joes. But it's the only reason she won't just give up on the piece of junk, because it's the last _real_ thing she has connecting her to Diane. Sometimes, on especially warm days, the leather still smells faintly of her cigarette tobacco. And it never fails to make Alex smile.

…

She heads straight to the kitchen and asks Raoul to make her a breakfast sandwich. They talk about the playoffs whilst he fries eggs and pours coffee. He reminds her (like he always does) that he shouldn't really be doing this, that it's more than his jobs worth if he's caught giving out freebies to the other staff, but he gives her extra Canadian bacon anyway.

Raoul doesn't ask about the laceration to her face, Alex knew he wouldn't, that's why she likes coming here. They talk about sport, eat greasy food and then they both carry on with their day until next time. Truthfully Alex doesn't give a fuck about NFL, but it's easy and makes Raoul happy, so she does it anyway.

She speaks to Frank at reception, he tells her Fahri called her last night and this morning. She goes to the payphone in the lobby to call him back, she figures it's safer than using the phone in her room, less traceable. He sounds tired, as if his mouth can't keep up with the speed of his brain, like he's still recovering from an almighty bender, which in Fahri's case, may or may not be true.

He tells her hasn't slept for 36 hours, but thinks he's managed to sort out the mess. 'Mark is going to be overseeing all the deliveries from now on, he's more….experienced….' And suddenly Alex is finding it hard to swallow, as if a hand has been clamped around her throat.

'Why?' She manages to croak. He can't know, surely? She's been so careful, only letting Nicky in on it because she was forced to and even she, with her wisecracks and questionable work ethic, knows what danger they could both be in if anyone found out.

'What do you mean why? It's my prerogative Vause and by the state of your face the other day, it looks as though you could do with having some of the heat taken off you.' He laughs, it's tired and lacklustre, but he's trying to soften the blow. He thinks this is disappointment because Alex had been so keen to prove her worth and part of that is true, but she can't lose the job as a runner, not just yet, there's too much riding on it.

'I was fine, it was just a scratch,' she says. Instinctively her fingers reach up to touch the wound. 'Look, if you've sorted it out and it was just a misunderstanding, why do you need Mark to do this? I was doing just fine before, you even said yourself.'

'Relax Vause, this isn't a slight on you, you're a very valuable asset to us, but I've got other plans for you. Come and see me tonight, we'll talk it through.'

'I'm working reception tonight.'

'Oh right,' he says with a soft chuckle, 'I always forget about your kosher job, whenever you're next free then, call me and we'll arrange something.'

'Ok, bye,' she says, replacing the receiver with a soft click.

 _Fuck_.

She needs some air and thinks about checking to see if she can swap her shift with someone tonight. She walks up to the check in desk, but Frank and Debbie are both busy with guests.

'Excuse me, excuse me.' Alex feels a tap on her shoulder and turns around. It's a brunette a good few inches shorter than her. She looks prissy and annoying. Her lips are pursed as she stares Alex up and down.

'We need to check in and then can you take our luggage up to our room?'

'Do I look like a fucking bell boy to you?' Alex says not even flinching, so riled by the presumptuousness of the woman's statement that she momentarily forgets that she is still on the pay roll of the hotel.

'Well I'm not sure _what_ you look like, the woman says, 'but that's besides the point isn't it.'

'I'm not on shift, the line for check in is there,' she says nodding towards Frank. 'Enjoy your stay.' And then she walks through the foyer and out of the doors.

She's lighting a cigarette and chatting to the valet when a blonde woman, around her own age approaches her. Nichols wouldn't hesitate in calling her smoking hot, in fact Nichols wouldn't hesitate in hitting on her immediately, but she looks straight. Annoyingly straight. Her blonde shoulder length hair is crimped and she's wearing a white oversized Ralph Lauren shirt over acid wash jeans. She's fuckable, for sure. But then she smiles at Alex and the brunette feels as though something is trying to free itself from the confines of her chest.

'Hey,' she says, awkward and self-conscious and fucking adorable. 'I just wanted to apologise.'

'Apologise?'

'For my friend, just now…inside….the bell boy thing…'

' _That_ was _your_ friend?'

The woman laughs. 'Guilty,' she says tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

'Well you know people judge you by the company you keep?'

'She's nice, honestly,' Piper says.

'So what does that make you then?' Alex replies, the cigarette ash threatening to burn her fingertips.

'A good friend?'

Alex chuckles. 'I'll give you that kid. So how long are you planning on sticking around?'

'A week or so for now.'

'For now?'

'Depends if there's anything worth sticking around for.'

'The slot machines,' Alex grins.

'House always wins.'

'Maybe.'

Alex drops the cigarette to the ground.

'I better get back…' Piper says, trying to ignore the fact that her best friend had called this woman 'super cunt,' mere minutes go.

'To your friend.'

'Yeah….so anyway, sorry again.'

'Don't worry, it's already forgotten, just enjoy your stay.'

'Thanks,' Piper says, returning back indoors.

 _House always wins._


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:**

 **Hey guys, here's another chapter, hope you enjoy it. I'm not sure if some of you will have guessed what Nicky and Alex are up to by the end of it, but all will be revealed soon. Thanks as ever for reading and I always appreciate your comments, so feel free to leave some more.**

 **Go well.**

Alex is working her shift, but Nicky has taken to bugging her. She's sat on an upturned beer crate behind the reception desk, humming lines of various songs in turn and asking Alex to guess what they are.

Ordinarily Alex would have told her to fuck off a while back, but it's dead tonight, the phone has only rung once and the brunette is in need of distraction, because another hour of 'filing' is threatening to push her over the edge.

She toys with the idea of telling Nicky that Fahri may be on to them, slipping it in casually, like 'hey, yeah, may need to lay low for a while, things are getting a little intense right now,' some vague explanation that conveys a level of seriousness, but not the _whole_ truth.

But then Nicky is standing up, straightening herself out and announcing she needs a drink and a hot dog.

'With those crazy good fried onions April does, you know?'

Alex nods and goes to speak, but something about Nichols's manner stops her momentarily. Until after a few seconds she finally says, 'are you high?'

'It only took you like two hours to notice.'

'I try not to spend too much time looking at you.'

'Liar and also it's practically worn off now, it was a post siesta treat.'

'We're in Vegas not Valencia.'

Nicky doesn't bite.

'You're gonna be done in like an hour or two aren't ya? Come join us? I know April is always happy to see you.' And then she grins and Alex decides not to spill her fears. Instead she shoves them to the back of her mind, hoping to dilute them with some fun later on.

But the pull of April's flesh doesn't seem quite so appealing today, her head feels too muddled for that, as if all the words she knows have snapped into pieces and all that remains is a jumble of scrabble tiles she's struggling to piece together. So instead she tells Nicky she'll think about showing up later and watches her walk across the lobby and out of the revolving doors.

She makes coffee in the back office and carries it out to the front, pointedly ignoring the pile of paperwork she knows she needs to finish. Instead she reads an article in an old copy of the New Yorker, taking tiny sips of her drink, not bothering to wait for it to cool.

'Hey.'

She looks up - it's the blonde girl from earlier. 'Hey,' she says again and then laughs like she's embarrassed. And Alex finds her throat a little dry.

'You seemed a tiny bit lost in your thoughts,' the girl says.

'I was just reading this,' Alex replies, holding up the battered copy of the magazine, 'and thinking about the Four Horsemen.'

'As in the end of days?' Her nose wrinkles like she's confused, her shirt looks more crumpled than when Alex last saw her, like she's napped in it or something.

Alex laughs. 'It's the name of a bar out of town.'

'Oh…sounds nice.'

'It isn't, but it's my regular.'

'You often hang out in not so nice places?' Her eyes hover over the brunette's uniform until they land on the name badge. ' _Alex_.' She says it real slow, allowing it to linger, like it's something she's really savouring.

'Most of the time, it's quiet and the beer is decent.'

Piper leans across the desk, she smells of something expensive.

'I locked myself out of my room, do you have a spare key?'

'Where's you room mate?'

'We're not sharing a room.'

'Of course.'

'Don't judge me,' the blonde says, but she's laughing so Alex knows it's fine.

'Polly snores, i've tried sharing with her before.'

'I had her down as more the fire breathing kind, but ok.'

The blonde furrows her brow and then pauses, as if she's deciding whether to be mad or not. 'That's kinda mean.'

'Uh huh.'

'So…'

'So?'

'Do you have a spare key?'

'What's your name and room number?'

'Piper Chapman, room 712.'

'Solid name,' Alex says, checking the details against the sign in book

'Is that a good thing?'

'Is there a reason it shouldn't be?'

'I guess not.' She bites her bottom lip. Her eyes look bluer than they did earlier when she watched Alex smoke. Now she's stood under the gawdy chandelier, in a pool of too bright yellow, all soft edges and honey.

Gimme a minute Alex says as she slips into the back office and returns a few minutes later with a key.

'You're a life saver,' Piper says pocketing the key.

'Nah, just a reception clerk.'

And then she spots Nicky approaching the desk and knows no good can come of this.

'I thought you'd left already,' Alex says, the words sounding a little more barbed than she'd intended.

'I need a discreet word,' and then she raises an eyebrow, 'if you know what I mean.'

Alex looks back at Piper who seems mildly amused.

'Sorry, um…work,' she says, nodding towards Nicky, who hasn't even acknowledged Piper's presence. 'Enjoy your evening,' and then she disappears into the back office, Nicky in tow.

…

Polly knocks on her door at 7pm and asks her if she wants to go down to the casino. Piper is sat cross-legged on the bed, Jack and coke on the nightstand courtesy of the mini bar.

'I saw some cute guys by the pool earlier, they might be there.'

Piper makes a low guttural sound in response, mid-way between a moan and a sigh.

'Wow, don't go overboard with the enthusiasm,' Polly says.

'Sorry,' Piper replies, 'I just don't feel like mingling tonight, I think I might be coming down with something.'

'You need some Advil? I've got some in my room?'

Piper shakes her head. 'No, thanks, I just feel restless. I should have gone for a run.'

'We're on vacation.'

'They've got a gym in the basement.'

'Piper, you did not drag me all the way out here for you to waste an evening on a treadmill.'

'Fine,' the blonde says, swinging her legs off the bed. 'But I don't want to go to the casino. Let's go to another bar, it's just a little way out of town, we can get a cab.'

Polly narrows her eyes. 'Why do I feel as though I'm not going to enjoy this.'

'It's supposed to be characterful…'

'Who told you that?'

'A friend,' Piper says, downing the rest of her drink.

'Hmmm…so what's this place called?'

'The Four Horsemen.'

…

Nicky says they need more stuff, that Marco has got $5,000 ready to go providing they can get the goods to him by midday tomorrow.

'That's almost everything we've got,' Alex says.

Nicky's eyes are wide and shimmering with excitement. 'I know and this isn't a one off either Vause, he likes our shit, he said, and I quote, 'it's head meltingly fucking pure.'

'Well yeah,' Alex says, dumbly, not knowing what to do next.

'Most of the stuff around here is cut with brick dust or baby powder or some shit,' Nicky says, rambling on, her pupils crazy fucking large and Alex isn't sure if she's sniffed something before her return or if it's just excitement at the prospect of the deal. 'We've got a premium product and he knows it.'

But Alex is stuck at the bit where this will wipe out her stock and that she has no means of replacing it, for now at least. Of course she can't fill in her friend on that part yet, because she's not sure she can handle Nicky losing her shit over it.

The cash means as much to Nicky as it does to her, but in a different way. It means she doesn't have to ask Marka for her trust fund money on condition that she conforms to the trust fund lifestyle. Nicky isn't Hamptons and twin sets, she's the dirt and heat and dust of Nevada. Her voice is the gravel of dessert sand, her hair, untamed like the planes.

She's uncouth in a way that Alex enjoys and, if she's being really honest, relies on. It makes her feel more rooted somehow.

'Fine we can do the deal, but you know it's going to clear us out,' she finally says, her voice sounding wobbly as if a scream is about to rip through any second.

'We can replace it in no time,' Nicky says, unable to stand still, practically hopping from foot to foot. 'We should take a vacation with the money.'

'Burn it all in one go? Great thinking.'

'No, I mean like a short road trip, see the sights.'

'Right.'

'Whatever Vause, just go get the stuff and meet me back here, I'll cover the desk while you're gone.'

But then the phone on the front desk rings. They both ignore it, but it won't stop, until eventually it begins to rupture the stream of their conversation. So Alex snatches up the receiver to answer and then almost immediately wishes she hadn't.

It's Fahri. He only says a handful of things, curt sentences, each one making her throat feel tight as if it's being held in a tourniquet and Alex immediately knows she's in deep.

'You lied Vause. We'd better talk - i'll send a car for you tomorrow morning. Be ready.'

And then he hangs up and it's almost as if the conversation never happened, the dial tone bleating through the black plastic handset.

Nicky immediately asks her what's wrong and Alex can't face explaining it to someone else, having to answer questions and formulate a solution- or at the very least, something that means she's not likely to end up as dog food.

So she says she's not feeling well and Nicky says 'no shit, you look like reheated macaroni and not the good kind.'

And it actually makes Alex laugh and she wants to tell Nicky she's grateful for that and that she needs to run, they both do. But instead she says, 'can you hold Marco off for a while? I need to tie up some loose ends.'

'What loose ends?'

'Just some stuff…'

'What's going on Vause?' And her face hardens into something more grown up, something decidedly un-Nicky.

'Just Fahri's taken me off running for a little while, because of this.' She gestures to the wound on her face, which is only just beginning to scab over. 'So I'm just conscious I don't have any means to replace what we sell today, not for a little while at least.'

You sure that's all it is?' Nicky says, the lines around her eyes softening a little, like she's almost bought into it.

Alex nods. 'I'll speak to Fahri tomorrow, make my case again, it'll be cool, he knows I'm reliable. And it's donkey work, who else is gonna do it?'

'One of the millions of other people with questionable morals and a bank account in the red?'

'Your ability to reassure is second to none.'

'That's what my therapist said.'

'Which one?'

'You're a real hoot ya know?'

And then they both laugh and Alex doesn't feel quite so marooned.

…

Later in the bar, feeling warm with booze, she listens to April tell her how she should apply cocoa butter on the laceration to her face. 'That way, it won't scar.'

'Maybe I don't care,' Alex replies staring at the basket of untouched curly fries sat in front of her.

'I don't buy into this bad girl image.'

'There's nothing to buy into.'

And April holds her gaze a little while and tells her she's knocking off in two hours. 'If you'd like to keep me warm tonight, it's getting kind cold lately.' Alex doesn't reply, she just smiles and tells her she's going to get her cigarettes from the car.

She smokes one leaning against the Plymouth Barrcuda, staring up at the bruised sky, trying to formulate a plan for her meeting with Fahri. But her thoughts feel liquid, as if she can't grasp hold of them for long enough to make sense.

And then she hears some voices approaching and someone suggesting this could be a setting for a kidnapping and when she turns around, she sees Piper Chapman and her friend.

The blonde is wearing jeans and a black, off the shoulder sweater, so the delicateness of her collarbone is exposed. Her hair is pulled back from her face in a loose bun and her lips are rouged.

She waves at Alex, who tosses her cigarette to the ground and nods back. The friend doesn't even try to hide an eye roll and weirdly that makes Alex warm to her.

'Well, I can't say I had you two down as patrons of this place,' Alex says grinning.

'Neither did I,' Polly mumbles.

'Pol here, thinks we're going to be kidnapped and sold into slavery.'

Alex chuckles warm and throaty and it makes Piper wish that Polly wasn't here after all.

'The most you'll get is food poisoning from some sliders, other than that, you're golden,' Alex replies. She takes out another cigarette, lights it and offers them both a drag. Polly declines, but Piper takes a deep pull before passing it back.

Alex likes the fact that the cigarette now has a red smudge where Piper's lips have been.

'Seeing as you dragged me here Pipes, can we at least go inside? Or was it the parking lot you were so desperate to see?' Polly says. She's huffy to the point of being outright pissed and Alex has to suppress the urge to be a real dick.

'Sorry,' Piper mouths to Alex, but the brunette just laughs and says, 'see you inside kid.'


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey folks, another chapter whilst the going is still good.**

 **Feel free to leave comments, I always value your input and all that shizzle.**

 **Enjoy.**

It feels too warm inside the bar and everything looks as if it's on the verge of wilting – even the patrons. A man in grimy overalls is sat at one of the booths cradling a bottle of beer, eyes fixed on the 14 inch, watching but not moving, as if he's superstitious one false move will betray his team. But the Chargers concede another touch down and then a few seconds later the final whistle blows.

'Goddamn it,' he says, slamming his beer bottle onto the formica table-top. It startles Piper, sat in her own booth, next to the jukebox. It's been playing 'Why can't this be love?' by Van Halen, on loop for the last five minutes.

'I just want to remind you, that it was _your_ idea to come here,' Polly says, eyeing the jukebox with irritation.

'Not a fan of Eddie?' Piper says, half an eye on the menu in front of her, the other on the entrance. Polly ignores the obvious attempt to bait her.

'I don't suppose they sell anything but beer?'

'You like beer,' the blonde says.

'Nice beer.'

Piper rolls her eyes.

'And you didn't tell me you knew super cunt,' Polly says, fiddling with the napkin dispenser.

'Her name's Alex.'

'Vause!' A raucous voice yells across the room. Piper looks up and recognises the woman from the hotel, whom Alex had ushered into the back office a few hours earlier.

'Your voice could wake the fucking dead,' Alex replies.

'Pretty pointless talent.'

'What can I say? It's all you've got.'

Nicky grins. 'Touché douchebag.'

…

'I don't even know what to order in this shit hole,' Polly says, tossing the menu onto the table, as if she's trapped in a Shakespearean tragedy.

'I'll get us drinks,' Piper says, hurriedly sliding out of her seat before Polly has a chance to reply.

At the bar, the brunette is stood with her back to Piper, flirting with the barmaid, casual and easy, as if this is a regular thing. It makes Piper suddenly feel too hot and awkward.

'Sorry darlin', I didn't see you there,' the barmaid says, a few seconds later.

'No problem,' Piper replies, fiddling with the neck of her sweater. 'Can I get two Margaritas?'

And then Alex is turning to face her. 'Oh hey again.'

'Hey,' Piper says.

'You not gonna introduce me to Parkslope, Vause?' Nicky interjects.

Alex sighs.

'Piper, this is Nicky Nichols. Nichols, this is someone you should leavethefuckalone.'

Piper and Nicky both laugh and Nicky says, 'old money isn't my thing blondie, you're safe, I can't vouch for Vause though.' But Alex doesn't act embarrassed or squirm, like Piper would in the same situation. She just flips Nicky the bird and turns back to the blonde.

'Your friend seems like she's having fun,' Alex says, nodding towards Polly, who is staring listlessly out of the window.

Piper laughs, 'she'll be ok, it's good for her to push herself out of her comfort zone.'

'And how about you?' Alex says leaning in a little closer. She smells faintly of cigarette smoke and liquor. 'Are _you_ uncomfortable?'

'Should I be?' Piper says tentatively, words suddenly feeling as though they are bricked up in the back of her throat.

But then the drinks arrive and she feels bad about leaving Polly alone for any longer. 'I better get back to my friend,' she says, taking both glasses, but sort of hoping that Alex stops her to chat a while longer, or at the very least asks them both to join her and Nicky at the bar.

But she doesn't. Instead she grins and says, 'tell Molly hi from me,' making Piper wish she'd left her friend in the desert.

'It's _Polly_ actually,' Piper replies, still feeling the sting from the non-invite.

Alex shrugs in a way that is really quite assholeish, but it still makes Piper smile, even though she knows it shouldn't.

She spends the next fifteen minutes zoning in and out of conversation with her friend. And then, when she next looks up, Alex is gone.

…

There's so much blood Alex isn't sure where to begin.

The kitchen is solely illuminated by the pale moonlight. Alex is too scared to flip on the overheads, of making this even more real.

The blood looks like the bottom of an inkwell, in the relative dark. It's seeped onto the tiles around Farhi's head, pooling into a gory halo. Breath, hitches in her throat when she spots Raoul slumped on the floor, propped up by the giant refrigerator. Blood spatter across the wall behind him, like some sort of sinister abstract art.

The amount of blood and Farhi's stillness is a clear indication that he's beyond resuscitation, but she hovers her hand over his mouth anyway and checks for signs of life. But the air is still and his eyes are milky and wide open, as if he's staring right at her.

She stumbles backwards, deciding she needs to get the fuck out of here, in case whoever did this decides to come back, or the cops show up. But she slips on some of the spilt blood and goes careering backwards, her arms flaying around like a rogue Catherine wheel, until she lands with a thud against the wall, all the breath momentarily knocked out of her.

'Fuck,' she manages to gasp, waiting a second or two before she scrambles back to her feet.

She should leave she thinks again, but that part of her brain seems muffled now, as if it's behind a plexiglass screen. So she stays put a little longer.

When she'd walked up the driveway, both of Fahri's cars were parked up, so this can't have been a robbery. She looks across at Fahri's body again (avoiding the eyes this time) and notices that he's still wearing the Rolex. And then the realisation slices through her and she sinks to her knees as if she's at an altar, ready to repent.

Kubra knows.

…

She hops back into the Plymouth and heads straight to April's.

When the red head opens the door, she's still in her bar uniform.

'Hey you, perfect timing, I just got back.' Then she pauses, smile gone. 'Al, are you hurt?'

'What?' Alex says, shaking her head, as if she's trying to rid herself of the knotted mess of thoughts that seem to have gathered there.

'Your t-shirt, it's got blood on it,' April says pointing to the neckline.

'Shit,' Alex says loudly… _too_ loudly.

'Where have you been?' April says, don't tell me you've taken up bare knuckle boxing, let me look at your hands.'

Except Alex isn't in the mood for jokes right now. Fahri's blood is on her clothes, that much is true. But she can throw out the t-shirt in a split second. It's the blood on her hands she knows she can't rid herself of.

And that's the problem.

…

April makes them coffee with whiskey, cream and lots of sugar ('you look like you need it'). The booze settles in her belly, warmth creeping along her flesh, until she feels hazy enough for the images of Farhri's blank stare to melt into the background.

'Taste good?' April says.

Alex nods.

'You up to telling me what happened?'

Alex sets the mug down on the end table. 'What makes you think there's anything to tell?'

April barks out a laugh, like who the fuck are you kidding? But Alex doesn't respond, instead she leans back a little further, so she's properly settled into the couch and closes her eyes.

But as soon as the shutter of darkness comes down, there's light and shape and sound and the coppery tinge of death in the air.

'Al,' April says, gently placing her hand on Alex's forearm.

'I need to get back,' Alex says, opening her eyes and allowing the reality of April's apartment to flood her senses instead. It smells of reheated Chinese food and then Alex spots two cartons on the kitchen counter-top.

'I should go, let you finish dinner.'

'Two day old egg rolls can wait. If you don't want to talk, that's fine, but don't rush off, I'm worried about you.'

'Don't be,' Alex says, hauling herself up and ignoring the fact that her legs feel less than solid beneath her.

'If you're in trouble then…'

But Alex is already on the wrong side of the front door, at the top of the stairwell, looking down, into darkness.

…

She finishes her cigarette just outside the revolving hotel doors. The sky is bleeding she thinks. Maybe it's always been that way.

In the foyer she bumps into Piper. She's drunk, walking barefoot, heels held loosely in her hand. Her mascara is smudged and the neckline of her sweater has been tugged across so the whole left hand side of it has slid down her shoulder.

'Heyyyyyy Alex,' she says goofily.

'Hey Piper, where you heading?'

'The bar.'

'Which bar?'

' _The_ bar,' she says incredulous, as if Alex is the one being obtuse.

'I think you may have had enough bar activity for today, huh.'

And then Piper frowns as if she's giving this some serious thought and it makes Alex chuckle.

'Let's get you to your room…that is if you've not lost your key again?'

'Nooo,' she says, fiddling about in the pocket of her jeans until she retrieves it and holds it aloft like a trophy. 'But um…,' she says dropping her voice conspiratorially, 'can I tell you a secret?'

'Sure, if you want to,' Alex says, wondering if this is such a good idea after all.

'I'm not sure of the way.'

'Back to your room?'

'Uh huh.'

And Alex laughs. 'It's ok kid, I think I got this.'

…

Inside the hotel room they sit on the bed, side by side. Piper says she feels dizzy and drinks a glass of water on Alex's insistence.

'Better?' Alex says when the tumbler is empty.

'Maybe.'

'Ok, well that's a start,' Alex laughs.

'Do you think she's pretty? And don't lie, I can tell when people lie,' Piper says, studying Alex's face quizzically.

'Do I think _who_ is pretty?'

'The woman at the bar.'

'Nicky?'

'No, the bar person…woman…maid…'

'Just how much did you drink exactly?' Alex says.

'This much,' Piper says stretching her arms out as wide as they will go.

'No shit.'

'You didn't answer.'

'April? Yeah, she's cute…why, you want me to hook you up?' Her grin is delicious and suddenly Piper is feeling a lot less drunk and a lot more foolish.

'No.'

'Not your type huh?'

'No…I don't have a type.'

'Why did you ask about April anyway?'

And Piper is just drunk enough to go from tottering on the edge of the chasm, of trying to maintain her balance, to tumbling straight into the void and wondering when she's going to hit the ground and how much it's going to hurt.

'You just seemed close…like maybe she was your girlfriend…' And then she pauses, tries to focus on Alex's face, like really focus. And the brunette appears to be smiling and it doesn't feel so bad.

'No girlfriend.'

'Like ever?'

'Like not right now. Are you always this nosey when you're drunk?'

'No.'

'I dunno if I believe you.'

'You should.'

'Why?'

'Because I'm not sure I could lie to you.'

'Well it's good to know that I evoke that moral side of you.'

And they both chuckle.

'Hey, did you hurt yourself?' Piper says suddenly, pointing to the bloodstain on the t-shirt that Alex had all but forgotten she was still wearing.

 _Fuck._

'Oh, um I don't know,' she says staring down at the dime-sized patch of blood. 'Don't worry about it.' She's certain that her voice sounds a little jagged, as if she's having to force the words out, so she takes a deep breath and tries again. 'April was mixing cocktails, a bottle smashed, a shard of glass must have nicked me or something.'

But Piper is holding her head, seemingly having lost the thread of the conversation.

'Alex?'

'Yeah?'

'I feel ill.'

And Alex breathes and her chest suddenly feels a bit lighter.

'Let's get you to bed,' she says.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hello folks, I'm sorry this story has taken so long to eek out, but honestly it has been a real push to finish it because free time is like gold dust these days.**

 **Anyhow, as well as being the final chapter, this is also the final story I will be writing for the orange fandom, as mentioned, I just don't have the time to write fanfic anymore. However, I would like to say a massive thank you to you all for reading and commenting and following my stories since 2015, it's been a real pleasure. I've met some great people along the way, but a special shout out to Suzie Sue who has actually turned into one of my best pals, love ya!**

 **Enjoy.**

…

They'd found her wandering the desert planes, a port wine stain creeping up the hem of her white dress, blood smattering her collar bone like some grisly abstract art. She was still clutching the gun, muttering things to herself about the resurrection and judgment day.

Her name was Mary Kowalczyk, a Polish immigrant who had fled an abusive husband and had tried to carve out a new life for herself and her 15-year old son Stefan. Nevada was her savior, or at least that was what she had thought. Except life never does quite play out how you imagine, so whilst she worked 18 hours a day in menial jobs, Stefan began skipping class, hanging around with older boys who'd been laid off from their construction jobs.

It had seemed easy money to him at first, just like the boys had told him. He'd make a delivery on his bike, get handed a brown envelope wedged full of cash and get a pat on the back from Fahri. The cut wasn't great, but it was better than being consigned to a life of what his mother was doing and Fahri was impressed enough that promotions came swiftly. But something had gone wrong one day. He was meeting with a big time dealer, he was calling some of the shots by then, trying to smooth out a turf war, but one thing had led to another.

Stefan Kowalczyk was 24 when he died of a bullet to the brain. His body was left in a crumpled heap outside the new apartment he'd bought for his mother only a week earlier.

Mary had not shed a single tear at the burial, instead, fury seeming to blister beneath the surface of her skin, rage against the injustice of it all. The cops had written it off as the murky dealings of the underworld and it had taken her close to a month (Stefan's body now nothing more than a maggot infested mess) before she'd got a name – Fahri.

And an address.

It was easy enough to buy a gun and surprisingly, even easier to fire it straight at the head and heart of the man that had ruined her little boy's life. She'd polished the other goon off for good measure too, he'd wandered in, caught off guard by the 5ft4 Polish woman with a scarf tied around her head, neatly knotted under her chin.

When the police tried to arrest her the desert was so still it almost didn't seem real and then she'd smiled and put a bullet through her own skull, ready to meet Stefan on the other side.

…

Nicky tells her this over coffee the next day. 'It's all over the news, so the Fahri thing, that's nothing to do with you.'

But Alex isn't sure what she's supposed to say, because Stefan's fate could so easily have been hers. Maybe last week or last month this fact wouldn't have affected her all that much, but today it seems different, sticky and hard to shake.

'Vause,' Nicky says clicking her fingers in the brunette's face, 'you in there?'

Alex lights a cigarette, 'yes, sadly,' she replies, blowing a plume of smoke directly in Nichols' face.

'Nice, so this is the thanks I get for being a good friend?'

'What would you like instead? A trip to the circus?'

'We live in a fucking circus, I need a break from the goddamn carousel.'

And they both laugh.

They eat breakfast sandwiches in Nicky's room and watch the news. CNN have collated a life history for Mary Kowalczyk and one of the guests is a Professor in Migration Studies from Brown. He explains how Stefan's fate is not unusual due to the economic hardship facing migrant communities. Alex zones out when they start discussing the American Dream.

'You done?' Nicky says pointing to the remaining sandwich Alex has left in the paper bag.

'Not that hungry.'

Nicky sighs. 'Look Vause, you're off the hook, free to do as you please, buy a dog, fuck a drag queen, do whatever... but remember, Fahri had it coming and if this woman hadn't got him, then someone else would have.'

'Exactly,' Alex says, 'so where do you think that leaves me? Or do you think that for some reason I'm immune to having my brain smattered across a wall because I pissed the wrong person off?'

'You're small fry,' Nicky says taking another mouthful of sandwich. 'You don't count.'

'I'm stealing from an international drug Lord and selling the product myself, how does that make me small fry?'

' _Were_ stealing Nicky says, licking ketchup from her fingers, Fahri's deader than your sex life.'

'Funny, but it's also bullshit. Kubra is still pissed and for now I'm just a moving target.'

'Who did you inherit this sunny disposition from Vause?'

Alex flips Nicky the bird, but in a way, her friend isn't wrong. In the grand scheme of things she is a nobody, but in the drug world it doesn't take a nobody long to become a somebody and for all the wrong reasons.

Her plan had seemed simple enough in the beginning - sell the stuff until she had accumulated enough funds to leave. But, the money wasn't coming quickly enough as a runner and so she and Nicky had concocted the plan – repercussions an ever shifting point on the horizon.

But the t-shirt on the top of her laundry pile still bears Fahri's blood.

 _Red dot._

She needs to leave Nevada.

…

A shadow looms over her desk and she finds herself holding her breath before she looks up.

It's Piper.

'Hey,' the blonde says sheepishly. Her hair is tousled and she's still wearing last night's clothes. 'I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have come back here, I mean I can see you're working…but you're all I've been thinking about since I woke up.' She says the words too quickly, as if she's scared that a pause will make her lose her nerve.

Alex raises an eyebrow, unable to resist playing the asshole. 'Oh, really? Do tell me more.'

'Oh shit, no…I didn't mean in that way, shit...'

And then Alex laughs and Piper realises she is being ever so gently teased.

'Not fair she says,' i'm barely awake,' but she's smiling all the same.

'Apologies,' Alex replies, 'but I couldn't resist, restraint is not my thing,' and then she licks her lips, almost challenging the blonde to hold her gaze.

Piper swallows hard, trying to remain focused and flicks her eyes to the shift rota on the wall behind the desk, pretending not to notice that her left hand is a little shaky with adrenalin. She clenches it into a fist at her side, hoping it will stop.

'I just wanted to apologise about last night and maybe buy you a drink this evening to say sorry.' And that seems a normal enough request and if Alex says no it's really not a big deal because she and Polly are moving on in a couple of days in any case. It's casual and friendly and if only her goddamn hand would keep still.

But Alex's demeanor doesn't really change, even when she's telling her she can't make it because she's working in the casino tonight.

'Oh,' Piper says, her expression so obviously dropping that it makes Alex like her a little more.

'But, why don't you come down, play some roulette, you never know, you might get lucky?'

Then the grin is back, all casual assholish charm.

And before she has time to consider further, Piper finds herself agreeing (probably too quickly). 'Maybe I'll pop down for a short while, if Polly agrees.'

'Make it a long while and ditch Molly, who knows, you may not ever want to leave.'

And Piper tilts her head to the side ever so slightly, as if she's examining Alex in a new light.

'I can't figure out if you want me to come because you like me, or if it's something else.

'There's only one way to find out.'

…

'Red or black?' She asks the blonde.

'I'm not sure,' comes the reply, 'is there even much point in me picking? I've heard The House always wins.'

'Depends on what you consider winning,' the brunette says. Her grin is wicked.

They're sitting cross-legged on Alex's bed, a mini roulette wheel sat between them.

'Well, when you told me to come down to the casino, I assumed I would be playing down there.'

'My shift was almost done and we would have had Nichols looking over our shoulders, plus you gotta admit, this is way more fun, isn't it?'

Piper laughs, takes a sip of Jack and coke and says, 'now that would be telling.'

'Tease.'

'I think you like it like that.'

Alex doesn't argue, instead she tells the blond to 'wait a second,' whilst she slides off the bed and flips 'Tango in the Night' onto the record turntable. It fizzes and spits into life and Piper lies back on the bed, feeling herself untangle, bit-by-bit.

'You like Fleetwood Mac?' Alex says, removing the roulette wheel and stretching out next to Piper so that their elbows touch, leaving the blonde wondering whether it's intentional or not.

'I do like them, a lot actually.'

'What else do you like?' Alex says, turning onto her side, so now she's fully facing her companion. But Piper is still frozen in position, not sure what to do next, or what it may lead to.

'Lots of things,' she says, realising that Polly has probably read an article in Cosmo that would have prepared her for this exact moment, so she could say something witty and dazzling. But instead words float around her brain like fairy dust and she can't seem to land on anything appropriate.

'Hey,' Alex says, so softly it's barely more than a whisper, 'I don't bite you know.'

And so Piper turns to face her, comforted by the encouragement from the brunette. She finds herself talking about Smith, about wanting to do something worthwhile, but not knowing quite what, about feeling trapped within the walls of Connecticut and being stifled by a life of pearls and twin sets.

'So you picked Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino?'

'I guess I did.'

'Well, Nevada is dirt tracks and dust and warm beer, but…I hear the people can be pretty great.'

And then, with all the courage she possesses (and some she didn't know she had) Piper Chapman kisses the girl.

She tastes of cigarettes and Vodka, but she kind of likes that and also the way Alex finishes the kiss by tracing her tongue over the blonde's bottom lip. When they pull away Alex says they should order food.

They eat pizza from cardboard boxes on their laps and Piper asks about Alex's family. The brunette skims over the details of her father ('worthless dumbass') and her childhood living in a trailer park ('shit happens') and instead focuses on the warmth and comfort of Diane and for the first time in a long while, it makes Alex's chest really hurt.

But she lets it, and in a way, it feels nice.

It's 3am before Piper crawls off the bed and says she really should get back to her room.

'But it's so far away, you might get lost,' Alex says half laughing as she scrambles up to join the blonde.

'It's like four floors up from here.'

'So you remember today then, huh?'

'Ha ha ha.'

'It really does seem quite far to travel at 3am.'

'Does it?'

'Yes.'

'Why?'

'Because the elevator is old and slow,' Alex says gentle pushing Piper against the closed hotel room door.

'And?' Piper says, gaze locked with the brunette's, her heart seeming to scissor its way up through her chest.

'And…' Alex replies, closing the remaining distance between the two of them, 'I can't kiss you again if you're four floors away.'

The second kiss is even better than the first.

…

They wake in a tangle of limbs, the faint smell of pizza and liquor still lingering in the air.

Alex is the first to move. She's walks over to the small dresser and switches on the coffee percolator that's sat on top of it. She's naked save for some blue cotton shorts. Piper tries not to stare.

'Morning, welcome to breakfast chez Vause. Cigarette?' she says, offering Piper a Lucky Strike.

'They're bad for your health.'

'So are a lot of things.'

'Such as?'

And Alex laughs and it makes Piper want to pull her back into bed and repeat what happened after the sixth kiss.

'I really had better get going,' Piper says, scooping up her top from the foot of the bed, 'Polly and I usually go down to breakfast together.'

'There's a joke in there somewhere, about going down and breakfast,' Alex says all devilish pleasure.

'But please don't make it,' Piper says half laughing, tugging her jeans up and running a hand through her hair.

'You're not even staying for coffee?'

'No.'

'A kiss?'

Piper pecks her on the lips and then turns to leave. 'Bye Alex.'

'Enjoy your breakfast,' Alex says.

…

She's only just managed to make it back to her room before her friend comes calling.

Polly looks her up and down in the doorway and says, 'you got lucky? I need to know _all_ the details.'

…

As it turns out, once Polly finds out just whom she got lucky with, she doesn't want to know _any_ details. She just picks at her pancake stack, occasionally saying things like 'but really, super cunt?'

'If that's all you've got to say then don't ask about my private life.'

'But Piper come on, she's just so…so…'

'What?'

'Arrogant.'

'She isn't once you get to know her.'

But Polly just rolls her eyes, 'that's just the afterglow talking.'

And then Piper leans over the table conspiratorially and says, 'last night I came _seven_ times.'

'Ewww gross Piper.'

And then Polly pauses, puts her knife and fork down and says in hushed tones, 'really... _seven_ times?'

…

Nicky brings her breakfast and immediately quizzes her about last night.

'I watched a movie and crashed out,' Alex says sipping orange juice.

'So it was a figment of my imagination that you left at the end of your shift with Chapman?'

'We just hung out a bit.'

'Like the way you hang out with April?'

'No...Piper's different.'

'It's the blue blood.'

'Dick.'

'Thank you.'

'So what next? You know she's leaving soon right?'

'Someone's been doing their homework.'

'No, I'm just looking out for you.'

'Then figure out what we're going to do with the rest of the stash.'

'I already told you I'd found someone to take it and you told me to hold off.'

'Well that was before Fahri had his brains smeared across his kitchen.'

'So now you want me to do the deal?'

Alex takes another sip of her drink, suddenly feeling too warm. 'I guess so and then we're done.'

'Like that's it, finito.'

Alex's mind flits back to Fahri's house and the glimmering pool of his blood that looked like tar in the raw moonlight.

'Finito,' she says.

…

The problem is that Alex isn't sure what she wants to do when she leaves Nevada. She's got enough cash to get her far enough away, so she can no longer taste the dust in the back of her throat, but then what? She thinks about New York sometimes, Fall leaves, wandering through Central Park, the Guggenheim and taking day trips to Staten Island.

She tells Nicky this when she comes by on her lunch break.

'You fuck one Parkslope type and suddenly your heart is yearning for Manhattan?'

'Piper hasn't got anything to do with this.'

And that really is the truth of it. These days Nevada is nothing but something she wants to scrub from her flesh, a reminder of all her failings and the gaping cavity in her chest left by Diane. When she had the warmth of April's body next to her, it sometimes felt bearable, but even that seemed like little more than surviving - just about making it.

And then Nicky claps her on the shoulder, smiles and says, 'make sure you send me a postcard.'

…

She's smoking out front, watching two kids chase each other up and down the street when she spots Piper walking towards her. She's wearing gym shorts revealing her long tanned legs and a t-shirt which is sticking to her in patches and Alex's mind immediately flits back to the night before.

'Hey,' she says wiping the back of her hand across her forehead and clicking off her Walkman. 'I just went for a run, I was starting to feel a little cooped up.'

'I imagine Polly can do that do a person.'

'You got her name right.'

'Shoot, I need to work on that,' she grins as she stubs out her cigarette.

'So,' Piper says staring down at her feet, shuffling around, 'I kinda wanted to ask you to dinner.'

'Kinda?'

'No, I mean I do…just stop being such an asshole, I'm trying to ask you out okay?'

And Alex laughs and promises to play nicely.

'You know somewhere good?' Piper asks.

'I know somewhere decent, good might be stretching it a bit around here.'

'Okay, so shall we say 8pm, I'll meet you in reception?'

'It's a date.'

Piper doesn't stop smiling for the rest of the afternoon.

…

Nicky comes to her room just as she's about to leave for dinner. She looks Alex up and down.

'Ah, you're wearing the good jeans, looks like someone's got a date.'

'Fuck off.'

'Tell me I'm wrong.'

Alex changes the subject instead, pointing to the backpack Nicky has in her hand.

'What's in there?'

'Your ticket to JFK.' Nicky unzips the bag and tosses Alex a wad of cash held together by an elastic band.

'You did the deal?'

'As promised.'

'So that's it then I guess,' Alex says, feeling oddly remorseful, the idea of what could have been still woven around her brain.

'Been good doing business with you stretch, shame it was short lived, but don't forget about me when you're living the high life in your penthouse apartment.'

'I think you're more optimistic about this move than I am.'

'Well someone has to be don't they?'

'You could come with me?' Alex says suddenly, wondering why she'd never thought of this before. Nicky has just as little need to be in Nevada as her, both her parents died in a car crash two years ago, leaving her with a small inheritance that she all but squandered within a year.

' _Me_ , in New York city with _you_?'

'Why not?'

'I just don't think I'm cut out for it Vause and then there's Lorna…'

'Lorna and Donna and Jenny and…'

'No Vause, it's…um…it's getting serious. She asked me to move in with her.'

'Shit…really? Why didn't you say something earlier?'

'She only asked me yesterday, we had a talk about being more committed and it just went from there, so I can't leave, ya know?'

She's pleased for Nicky, of course she is, but all this does is remind her of how isolated she is out here, how everything around her seems to move on, the world keeps spinning on it's axis and yet she can't seem to escape the silence of the shadows.

'I'm happy for you Nicky,' she says smiling, 'just don't fuck it up, huh?'

'Scouts honour.'

…

They're on their second pitcher of Margarita's and Piper is giggling uncontrollably about a story Alex has just told her. It involves Nicky trying to escape a bad date out of a window in the bathroom of a diner, but instead she'd gotten stuck.

When Piper finally manages to stop vividly picturing the scene, she asks Alex how she knows. 'I don't imagine Nicky was eager to spill the gory details.'

'Nope, April knows the guy that manages the place, he told her and then she kindly relayed the information to me. Nichols didn't live it down for at least a couple of months.'

But Piper's expression has changed, it's lost the softness around the eyes and she plays with the plastic straw in her glass, bending the tip and then flicking it back.

'You okay?' Alex asks.

Piper nods before saying, 'can I ask you a question?'

'Depends what it is.'

'Nothing bad…I don't think.'

'Sounds ominous, but go ahead.'

Piper bends the straw again, avoiding eye contact with the brunette. 'The April thing…I get the impression you and her…um…are close?'

Alex lets out a warm chuckle, 'are you jealous?'

And Piper immediately regrets asking, of looking needy and childish. 'No, of course not,' she says, barely even convincing herself.

But Alex isn't like Chip or Doug or Mike, there's a sincerity about her feelings that Piper knows she can trust, so when the brunette tells her 'April is great, but it's nothing serious,' she believes her and allows a visceral thrill to pulse through her.

'If you're asking me what it means for you and I,' Alex says all sugar and spice, 'it means I really fucking wish you weren't leaving tomorrow evening.'

And then Piper exhibits her second act of bravery in as many days, blocking out what Polly or her mother would say and taking Alex's hand in hers, running the pad of her thumb across the creamy flesh and asks 'why don't you come with me?'

Alex barks out a laugh, largely in surprise. 'What, with you and Molly? Not my idea of a threesome Pipes.'

'I think Polly would have a coronary at _that_ particular thought,' Piper says laughing, 'but for the trip, why not? We're heading to San Bernardino next, you can drive…'

'Piper…'

And then Piper drops the brunette's hand and tries to change the subject, anything to mask the embarrassment of the rebuff. She grabs a laminated menu.

'Shall we order some food?'

'Don't be pissed,' Alex says.

'I'm not, you don't want to come, it was a dumb idea anyway, I just thought…let's just forget we had this conversation okay?' But she's not angry, her voice is still soft, just a little bruised.

But they order more drinks anyway and eat Nachos, talk about music and books and fuck in the rest room cubicle, Piper up on the sink, legs wrapped around Alex, grinding firmer and angrier into her with each thrust.

'I'm just not a relationship person,' Alex says on the walk home, arms gesturing to everything and nothing. 'I don't know the rules.'

'Who says there have to be any?' Piper says as they kiss under a constellation.

'That's Auriga,' Piper says, pointing to the stars as they pull apart, 'or the Charioteer.'

'No,' Alex replies, 'that's you being a little drunk.'

When they get back to the hotel, they head to Alex's room, but this time they don't fuck, they watch the Godfather, eat popcorn and fall asleep nestled into one another, still fully clothed.

Alex wakes the next morning to the sound of the room phone ringing, she doesn't answer it and when she reaches for Piper, she realises the space beside her is empty.

…

Piper doesn't go down to breakfast with Polly, she tells her she feels a little ill and needs to pack, not really caring whether her friend believes her or not. The rest of the trip suddenly seems empty and pointless and the thought of heading back to Connecticut more stifling still.

And the memory of last night causes a wave of melancholy to rise and fall. She remembers Alex's lips, the way her fingers curved inside her until Piper had reached a hot, urgent, crescendo.

'Some things are better this way,' she'd whispered to Piper under the stars.

But somehow, it really doesn't feel like it.

And then there's a knock on her door and she's half tempted to leave it, thinking it may be Polly again, but then she hears Alex's voice and then she's stood in the doorway with a teddy bear holding a poker chip.

'It's from the gift shop downstairs,' she says, 'something to remember me by.'

'Okay…' Piper replies, brow furrowed in confusion, 'but I didn't get _you_ anything.'

'No need, you can buy me dinner.'

'Alex, i'm leaving this evening, I told you, everything's already booked and…'

'I mean in New York, you should be able to get there in a few weeks time right?'

'You're coming to New York?' She says, eyes wide and bright.

'Yes.'

'For good?'

'For a new start.'

And then Piper kisses her - slowly, as if time is operating differently for them, as if she's consuming this moment to the full, as if nothing else matters.


End file.
